I’ve never been very good at protecting my own privacy. My long-acknowledged and most recognizable commodities are interjecting unwanted opinions and oversharing, often at the same time. Those qualities have not improved since I started blogging on a sporadic basis. Somehow, though, in the midst of this last round of depression, I stopped telling everyone, or anyone, exactly how low I was feeling.
It’s a testament to the insidious nature of depression that I buried not just the lead, but rather the entire existence, of the one thing about which I should actually endeavor to be open. And perhaps it’s because I’ve been living with this by myself for such a long time, but honestly, I’ve been stunned by the outpouring of love, concern, and commiseration my friends and family have shown me over the last few days. Some have texted or emailed, some of have called, some have Facetimed and Snapchatted and Facebook messaged me.
And some have sent gifts. Which... they’re appreciated! Because I’m very spoiled! But also, it’s weird? Like, here’s a consolation prize for not offing yourself? And how did people pick these things out? What was it about this particular item that said, specifically, “I care about you. Please don’t kill yourself.” Is there a Pinterest board for this?
So here’s a list of some of the things I’ve received in the wake of my indiscreet mention of that 43-second period I thought my life wasn’t living:
- goat milk caramel, cinnamon and regular flavors;
- turquoise and gold thank you cards from Papyrus;
- a 750 ml bottle of a limited release barrel aged Citizen Cider;
- the option to (perhaps not so) gracefully bow out of attending a wedding when my feeling on weddings is generally, “FUCK,”;
- a kokedama moss ball. I did not know what a kokedama moss ball was prior to this gift, and I’m going to be real for a moment—it has irrevocably changed my life for the better. My kokedama moss ball, who came to me with the name Fern, but is now named Clara to better reflect her true nature, looks kind of like this:
- this wise thought — “OK so here’s my thing. I think about killing myself constantly, right? but at BEST death is nothingness, at worst it’s either going to be boring or unpleasant. I hate those odds! and I feel like sooner or later they’ll invent a way to fix our stupid brains...”
- an adult coloring book, non-gendered;
- a Chemex;
- videos of babies doing ridiculously cute things;
- homemade treats for Maddie, which is really wonderful for Maddie, I guess;
- Bose headphones;
- a year subscription to Audible;
- a Joel Osteen book, The Power Of I Am;
- a travel size water color paint set;
- the complete Sex and The City digital catalogue;
- lemonade, both a weird bottle of Minute Maid Lemonade drops and a digital download of Queen Bey’s stunning masterpiece;
- this text, from today, which not-so-gently called out my inability to extract myself from previous terrible awful horrible bad relationships:
- a very large bag of generic brand gummy worms;
- an emergency sewing kit;
- and, finally, a gallon of maple syrup, the best and most impossibly perfect cure for everything.
Thanks, everyone, let’s do this more often.